


The Perfect Drink

by ayeitsyasi



Series: After Sex [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Disturbing Murder Details, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mention of Alchohol, Sex, Sherlock - Freeform, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:09:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7293334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayeitsyasi/pseuds/ayeitsyasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why should everything always happen for a reason? Anything can happen to anyone, like Sherlock that happened to John and like sex that happened to both of them. John hits replay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Drink

John sat down and tightened his grip on his cup. He could feel drops of sweat on the back of his neck, but his hands were freezing cold and he was trying to warm them up, using the heat radiating from his cup of tea.

Sherlock's chair was in front of him, it held a little pile of books, a German dictionary, Rules of Physics, Kenya In One Look, and a rather thin book about Greek mythology.

John took a sip of his tea. His tongue and throat welcomed the warm liquid and a little sigh escaped his lips, this, and the sound that his nails made when touching the cup, were the only sounds that could be heard in the flat. The window was closed and the street wasn't welcome inside.

_"The, I have to get some air."_

Sherlock's words repeated in John's mind quietly. He remembered himself nodding lightly at Sherlock's flushed face, and stepping into the kitchen to pour himself some tea. Tea. Too simple and uncommon after sex.

John had wrapped himself in his robe and had waited for his hands to move and get a grip on the kettle. And his cup. And also the counter, in case his knees started to get wobbly again.

He took another sip from his tea. He tried to figure out if his tongue was the only numb thing in his body, or if his whole body was numb. His brain had started functioning properly about ten minutes ago, and now he could feel the events that had happened in the past hour were starting to replay too clearly for John to keep it together. He got up and walked towards the refrigerator.

_"John?" Sherlock called, slightly breathless and upset._

John reached for a little bottle which he called The Emergency Vodka and stared at it for a couple of seconds before walking back to his chair and pouring a little bit into his cup.

_"Room." John responded. He was making himself busy by trying to fix an old camera he had found in one of his drawers._

_Sherlock walked in and John looked up at him. His eyes were glassy and his hair was everywhere. Messy curls creating shadows on his peach colored cheeks and making him look like an annoyed baby._

John threw his head back and chugged the whole bottle.

_"You okay?" John asked, confused by the sad expression on Sherlock's face._

_Sherlock took a step a closer. The light coming from the kitchen was the only source of light in John's room and that made Sherlock's shadow look longer on John's bed._

_"Sherlock, what's— are you crying?"_

_"Can you lie down with me?" Sherlock interrupted John with his shaky voice which made John grow more concerned than confused._

John winced at the thick liquid swimming down his throat and collapsed into his chair.

_"I— Sherlock are you okay?" John asked again, partly because he couldn't trust his ears and partly because he didn't have any responds to what Sherlock had just said._

_"Fine, I just— let me— can you lie down with me?" Sherlock asked again and took several steps closer. He held John's hands which were still on the camera and led John to bed._

_John, who was feeling mildly intoxicated, opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly closed it after Sherlock looked up at him with begging eyes._

_Sherlock laid both of them down in a rather quick, but smooth motion. John could hear Sherlock pant lightly and it didn't take him long to realize he was doing the same himself. He had comforted Sherlock before, when he was way too angry at a client for interrupting a beautiful piece of violin he was playing, with her boring story, or when he didn't have a case for weeks and had started stabbing their sofa with a kitchen knife. This though, was different. He didn't even know what was wrong with Sherlock and why he wanted them to lie down instead of talking or going for a walk._

_Sherlock's head was on John's chest that was going up and down, sort of slowly now. One of Sherlock's hands was on John's chest too, and the other was beside him. John didn't know what to do with his hands. He didn't know if he was allowed to touch, or to comfort, or to hold. This was strange, but John was trying to come out as understanding as possible._

John closed his eyes and led his head fall back.

_He raised one of his hands to Sherlock's hair and untangled a knot of curls. Sherlock purred at that and John thought if he could touch more of Sherlock to hear that sound come out of the consulting detective again. He led his palm ghost over the small curve of Sherlock's back to test the waters and when Sherlock started tracing small circles on John's chest, he knew he had the permission to touch more._

John smiled. He was feeling fuzzy and warm inside. He silently thanked God for alcohol.

_They lied there like that for a good ten minutes, then just when John thought it was okay to fall sleep, Sherlock started unbuttoning John's shirt. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, John had thanked himself for not wearing a jumper today, but then, very quickly, he was distracted by Sherlock's fingers tracing more circles on John's now bare chest. John felt his own shoulders tense and his breath hitch. Sherlock pulled himself up a bit, but John still couldn't see his face, just a mess of lovely curls. Sherlock pressed a tiny kiss on John's chest, very tiny, John knew he wouldn't feel it if he wasn't so caught off-guard by all this that was happening._

_"Sherlock." John whispered. Everything was so quite except the little noise Sherlock's lips made when planting a kiss on John's chest._

_"Sherlock." John whispered, more quite this time, but Sherlock looked up at him for the first time in minutes. His eyes were still glassy and his cheeks were a light shade of red. Sherlock said no words. He just looked at John and planted another kiss on John's chest, higher this time, keeping eye contact. His other hand was ghosting over John's trousers and it was then that John realized how much he's wanted this. Yes he was caught off-guard and surprised by a cherubic faced Sherlock, which he wasn't even sure if it was entirely possible for a man like Sherlock to look as innocent as a baby, but he didn't want to stay trapped in his mind and never let his wishes come true. He wouldn't call it dramatic, just a touch of drama, but the whole thing was real._

_John could feel Sherlock's hand on his thighs and he could tell that he was asking for permission, he nodded slowly and led his hand touch Sherlock's jaw. Sherlock got the hint and tilted his head upwards. With their faces inches away John murmured a little "okay?" and Sherlock shook his head slightly, then there it was. John kissed Sherlock and it took both of them less than a second to close their eyes shut._

_John knew that his friend didn't have a lot of experience on any sort of things like this, and he could feel Sherlock tense against him just as the kiss deepened, but be used his hands to rub Sherlock's back, hoping to make him more comfortable and accepting to the situation._

_John had plenty of casual shags and he knew how to work with his hands and mouth once at it, but this time, it didn't feel like he was going to casually fuck someone. Sherlock was his colleague, his friend. John fancied him, obviously, but the fact that Sherlock had started this, was sort of odd to John. With an inexperienced Sherlock on top of him, John felt the need to take the lead and work his way through this, so he pulled away from the kiss and turned them around, slow and gentle. He pushed Sherlock back slowly and kissed him again, using his hands to unbutton his friend's shirt. Sherlock was touching John everywhere. His neck, his hair, his chest, his waist. John loved it, loved to see Sherlock do this, which could only be taken as a hint of him wanting more._

John led out another sigh. He cold feel blood rushing to his cheeks. Jesus, he was blushing. How old was he again?

_John couldn't help but smile at the sight of Sherlock's wild hair and flushed cheeks. He was happy to have this, even though he didn't know what good he did to this universe to have won this. He wanted to kiss Sherlock harder and let this whole thing sink in a bit, but he could feel Sherlock's erection against his thighs, so he decided not to tease him. Moving very steady and slowly, he felt Sherlock's hands reach his trousers and cup his cock. John winced but smiled._

_"What, I'm—"_

_"Shh. It's fine." John laughed._

_Sherlock, who surprisingly still looked like an annoyed baby tilted his head up and kissed John again. He found John's zipper and unzipped it. He interrupted the kiss to take a look at John's erection which was visible through his pants. Sherlock looked up at John, eyes unsure and seeking. John knew this was all unfamiliar to Sherlock, but he also knew he should've done research about giving someone a hand job, or even sex, so he moved back and sat on his knees. With his trousers a little below his knees, he pulled his pants down to his thighs so Sherlock could have a batter view, then he gave one stroke to his cock and bit his lip at how hard he was already. John looked at Sherlock. His tired eyes were observing. John saw his chest tense and move up and down a bit faster. He gave another stroke, then a couple more and soon enough, he felt close. He was making direct eye contact with Sherlock who sometimes looked down to observe. To perceive. To see._

_Somewhere in the middle of him jerking off, John had seen Sherlock's hand gripping his own trousers and biting his lip. John could come just by watching Sherlock observe him, getting off slowly, but he decided to save himself, instead, he dared to reach for Sherlock's hand and place it over his cock, careful and gentle._

_"Sherlock—"_

_Sherlock interrupted John and unzipped his trousers quickly, pulling down his pants just to get his twitching cock which was clearly begging for some attention out, then having memorized everything John had done, he reached for John's free hand and did the same thing. John threw him a small smile and gave Sherlock's cock one fast stroke. He saw Sherlock's head fall back, a variety of expressions fleeting across his face. John loved it, so he gave him more strokes, firm and fast._

_With Sherlock's hand still on John and his dick in John's hand, Sherlock had lifted his head up a bit and stared at John for a couple of seconds before returning John's strokes by moving his hand in the same pace as John. John knew he didn't have high blood pressure or such things as that, but at that moment, when Sherlock's warm palm had started working on his cock, he could feel his heart go crazy and practically shake his whole chest._

_If John had the power to fly out of his body and paint a picture of them two, lying there, giving and getting hand jobs. he wouldn't resist a second. He wanted to scream and throw confetti everywhere because he knew he was the only one who's gotten to see the only consulting detective in the world bite his lip and moan and the ejaculate while closing his eyes shut, his face a slightly more darker shade of red._

_Sherlock had come first and John was happy to have helped him through it, the doctor though when Sherlock stared at John's eyes while he came and then looked at the thick semen on his hand and slowly brought it up to his mouth and licked it, eyes wide and curious like a five year old child, was going insane. So he kissed Sherlock hard and the fact that his own semen was now mixed with Sherlock's saliva, almost set him on fire._

John opened his eyes. His hands flew in search for his cocktail that contained sweet tea and vodka, which looked full despite him having taken sips from it. He could feel his cheeks grow hot. He remembered not to sweeten his tea next time he wanted to add alcohol to it.

_Sherlock kissed John back, harder. Their hips were grinding against each other and their bare members were hard again, if it's even possible to get hard again in the span of two minutes._

_Sherlock pulled away from the kiss, traces of saliva on his lips. John couldn't figure out what color they were; red? Rose? Ruby?_

_"John, do you— do you want this— me?"_

_And the instant response was be yes for John, of course, but he decided to look into Sherlock's eyes for a couple of seconds and observe, this time all by himself, so he did. John saw Sherlock's wide pupils floating in a sea of incredible green which was designed, so elegantly and brilliantly, with rims of a darker shade of green. He wondered how some people called this man heartless when he literally held the universe in his eyes and innocence practically radiated from them. Sherlock blinked and it looked like he was batting his eyelashes, God his bloody eyelashes, they were creating shadows on the small bags under Sherlock's eyes. He then focused his eyes on his friend's lips. John appreciated good art and intelligently detailed paintings, and right then and there he could've sworn that he was staring at the most beautiful thing in the world. The curved, the soft, the swollen pieces of goddamn art, and he had gotten to kiss them, and to feel them, and to taste them. He had tasted art and for a second he thought he might lose his mind, so he responded with a small "I do." and then Sherlock was pressing his bare cock and hips to John's and kissing him everywhere._

_John who was now trying his best to be incredibly fast, took his trousers off using his ankles and hips, he then pressed his hand against Sherlock's chest and made Sherlock look at him once more for reassurance and when Sherlock led out a small moan, he knew he was ready. John sat up and let Sherlock take off his own trousers and also pant and toss them off on the ground. John smiled at the thought of finding them sitting there after they were done with whatever this was. He reached for the drawer next to his bed and took out a pack of lube._

_"Fuck, bloody fuck. There are no condoms here."_

_He shot a disappointed look to Sherlock._

_"I think there might be some in the—"_

_"It's okay." Sherlock whispered._

_"But—"_

_"I did actually get tested a week ago. Just for— you know, situations."_

_Situations. Jesus, John had to hold on to the side of his bed to stop whimpering at the thought of Sherlock thinking about doing this someday and getting tested for it._

_"If you have any problems of course, I can just—"_

_"No." John protested. "I want to— uh— feel, you."_

_John would laugh if he ever read a book where the characters say such things as "Everything is going to be okay, I love you." or "Let's not use a fucking condom because you say you've been tested and I'm too in love with you to resist." Very specific, the second one, but at that moment he didn't even bother to let his mind go off somewhere else, somewhere other than his room, his bed, he wouldn't let his eyes focus on anything that wasn't Sherlock. It was a big moment for John, of course, but when he had said that, he had feel like a depressed person who had just succeeded to overcome their fear and anxiety, besides, the small smirk that appeared on Sherlock's face was worth all of his courage._

_So John opened the pack of lube and got his fingers slick, he then crashed his lips with Sherlock and lowered his hands just to find and tease Sherlock's hole. The second his fingers touched Sherlock's hole, he had felt the detective's mouth open to take a deep breath. He kissed Sherlock's neck and chest and sucked on one of his nipples. He could feel Sherlock's hands in his hair and hear him mumble his name every other second._

_"Okay?" John had asked before entering a finger._

_Sherlock had muffled a word and nodded, then he had led out a loud moan and clenched around John's finger._

_John slowly fucked Sherlock with his finger and sucked on his other nipple, listening to Sherlock moan and whimper and mumble his name. The doctor never knew that his friend would response to sex very well and sort of alike to other people. Other ordinary people. His body though, and his face weren't ordinary or alike to a human. He was a walking piece of art. John added another finger and Sherlock choked on air._

_John put his tea down. Air. He needed some air. He got up and opened the window, there wasn't a lot of noise and if there was, it wasn't unbearable for him. He sat down in Sherlock's chair and stared at the London sky._

_John could feel Sherlock's hole getting worked up and ready after he added another finger and opened him up gently. He planted kisses on Sherlock's chest up to his chin then he sucked on his upper lip and took out his fingers. Sherlock winced at the emptiness, still panting. He was ready and so was John. Sherlock's hand cluelessly searched for his own cock which was wet and dripping over his stomach a little. John didn't want Sherlock to come at just fingering but he knew Sherlock couldn't save himself no more, so he quickly got some lube on his cock and a little more on Sherlock's hole just to be sure he was good and ready, he then got in position and didn't forget to look Sherlock in the eye. He teased Sherlock's hole with the tip of his cock and then smoothly entered him. Sherlock led out a loud moan and a couple more after that, then he shakily moved his head up and kissed John. Sherlock was warm, pleasantly warm, and he felt so good around John, he felt drunk._

_"If you don't start moving this instan—" Sherlock had managed to say in between his moans and John started moving._

_"Incr—credible." Sherlock had said like he was still observing._

_John was going slow at first, loving the warmth that surrounded him, the he realized that Sherlock wants more and Sherlock likes it and Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. He speeded up and could see Sherlock's muscles tense everywhere. He knew Sherlock was close, so he thrusted harder and gave Sherlock's cock a couple of strokes. Sherlock threw his head back and moaned, breathy and heavy now. John was moaning too, at the sensation of Sherlock closing around him and at the sight of Sherlock's hands flying everywhere on his body. Sherlock was so close._

_"Come, Sherlock, come, it's okay." John panted._

_He thrusted harder and gave Sherlock one last stroke before feeling his hand that was stroking Sherlock go warm and wet and seeing Sherlock's mouth fall open without making any sounds. John himself came after hearing one final moan come out of Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock tilted his head down and John gave him a tired kiss, he was already thinking about what was going to happen next. He collapsed into the bed and pulled out of Sherlock, the warmth still there. One leg was positioned on Sherlock's right hip now and his head was next to his shoulder, so he started planting tired kisses there too. Sherlock though, was looking at the ceiling, his legs open with one hand on his side and the other on John's knee._

_"You don't need to always think about it, you know." John said, voice low._

_"You made me stop thinking about it." Sherlock's voice was rough, John missed Sherlock making out sentences._

_"Did I?"_

_"Yes." Sherlock said without a pause. "Thank you. It is nice, having your mind off of things."_

_"Things." John mumbled, closing his eyes, knowing he could fall sleep now, but since all stories didn't end as you predict or like, Sherlock sat up on the bed and looked at John, serious._

_"I—" he took a breath. "Have to go out."_

_Then he leaned down and gave John a quick but rather lingering kiss, then he was putting on his clothes, John frowned, knowing he couldn't fall sleep now, and oh, knowing he wouldn't see their clothes the day after, lying on the floor where they had tossed them off. One more kiss and then Sherlock was out of his room. John got up and grabbed his robe. He reminded himself to throw away the sticky sheets._

_"Where are you going exactly?"_

_Sherlock threw his coat on. "The, I have to get some air."_

_John gave him a light nod and he was out. He stepped into the kitchen to pour himself some tea. Tea. Too simple and uncommon after sex._

_He then wrapped himself in his robe and waited for his hands to move and get a grip on the kettle. And his cup. And also the counter, in case his knees started to get wobbly again._

John sighed. He did better than he thought, meaning, he didn't get hard. Everything was still normal around the flat. His empty cup of tea was sitting in the table beside his chair, Sherlock's books were on the same chair, the same pile, the same order. The window was still open and the street was welcome inside now. He still wasn't wearing his robe properly. The bottle of his emergency vodka was empty and it was getting dark out.

He heard the door click open and he forgot about the room. Sherlock appeared on the doorstep, his hair wasn't everywhere and his cheeks weren't flushed. John winced, he liked the two-hours-ago-Sherlock better. He got up and walked towards the kitchen.

"Tea?" He asked, not looking back at Sherlock.

He didn't wait for an answer, frankly he wasn't expecting one, so he poured some tea into a new cup and turned around.

"Jesus." he gasped. Sherlock was standing right behind him, pupils wide again, the greens of his eyes soul-piercing.

Sherlock looked down at the cup John was holding, he got it and set it on the table behind him. He then leaned his face closer to John's and carefully placed his hands on his waist.

"Thank you, John."

Then he kissed him, tenderly and carefully. John was leaning back against the sink and his eyebrows were shot upwards in confusion.

"Get my mind off things again." Sherlock interrupted.

"God, yes."

And that did it. John pushed him lightly towards his room, while taking his own robe and Sherlock's coat off and tossing them on the chair behind them, next to the table. They stumbled into the room and shut the door.

The flat was still the same. Sherlock's pile of books, John's cup, the open window, the empty bottle of vodka, except there was a hot cup of tea on the table, a robe and a coat on top of each other on a chair next to it, and the sound of Sherlock's moans coming from John's room. So yes, the flat was still the same, and tea was still uncommon after, or before sex.


End file.
